


My Fiancé, The Nudist

by aceklaviergavin



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Awkwardness, Body Worship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Eating Disorders, Naked Cuddling, No Smut, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Katsuki Yuuri, Other, Scars, Self Confidence Issues, Surprises, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 11:59:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9606692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceklaviergavin/pseuds/aceklaviergavin
Summary: Really, Yuuri should have expected this. No one enjoys the hot springsthat much.Viktor Nikiforov is a nudist and desperately tries to convert his fiancé.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For Victuuri Week Day One: Firsts
> 
> Prompt: Surprises
> 
> this fic was supposed to be pure humor but It Got Real because I can't stick to one genre to save my life.
> 
> iOS style skin taken from [this amazing tutorial](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722)

Viktor Nikiforov is an unending chain of surprises. Unfortunately for Yuuri, not all of those surprises are necessarily _good_.

It’s Yuuri’s first Sunday in St. Petersburg, a day that Viktor has graciously deemed “free,” and their only plans are to sleep in and start seeing all the sights the city has to offer. Yuuri walks into the living room around eleven, still rubbing the sleep from their eyes. They stand in the doorway, one of Viktor’s shirts hanging from their shoulder and nearly covering the hem of their boxers.

“Good morning, Yuuri!” Viktor chimes from the couch.

Yuuri blinks. Rubs their eyes. Blinks again. Considers the possibility this is a teenage wet dream.

“Vitya,” Yuuri says with measured patience. “What are you doing?”

Viktor sits on the couch, shirtless, pantsless; Makkachin’s furry body splayed across his lap is the only thing preserving his dignity. As if Viktor had any dignity in the first place, Yuuri thinks wryly. Confusion warps Viktor’s face, and he glances at himself as if this is a completely normal situation.

“Sitting?” he offers.

Yuuri stares at their fiancé, pinches the bridge of their nose, wonders how their life came to this. “ _Why are you naked_?”

Viktor’s face lights with understanding. “Oh! Do you want me to put on a robe?”

“You mean you normally... don’t?”

Viktor stands up, his furry privacy curtain flopping onto the couch. Yuuri averts their eyes, more to preserve their own dignity than Viktor’s. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, old habits, you know?” Viktor passes Yuuri on his way to the bedroom.

“Old habits?” Yuuri mouths to themselves, staring dead-eyed at where Makkachin lolls on the sofa. _What have I gotten myself into_ , Yuuri wonders.

Viktor returns in the short green robe he stole from the onsen. He sits next to Yuuri on the couch, and Yuuri stares at the green fabric swirling around Viktor’s legs, making it clear that he’s _not_ wearing underwear.

“You just hang out in your apartment naked?” Yuuri asks, still trying to wrap their brain around it.

Viktor shrugs. “Yes?”

“ _Why_?”

Viktor purses his lips. “I’m not sure? It’s just comfortable.”

Yuuri grew up in onsen. They have seen their fair share of naked bodies in a variety of contexts. Unaroused, naked people have almost entirely lost their sexual appeal to Yuuri. And Yuuri cannot fathom why someone would want to lounge around completely nude for no reason. There’s no hot spring in Viktor’s apartment. It’s much too cold for a hot spring, yet another reason Yuuri can’t understand why Viktor would want to be naked. How can you be comfortable when your ass is getting goosebumps?

“Also, the fewer clothes I wear, the fewer I have to wash!” Viktor chimes in.

Now _that’s_ about the most Viktor answer he could have given.

Yuuri lets Viktor exist in his natural habitat as much as possible. They want Viktor to settle back into their life in St. Petersburg, and if that means letting Viktor sit on the couch in his birthday suit on the weekends, then so be it. Far be it from Yuuri to ruin Viktor’s downtime. Yuuri gets used to it, it’s not altogether that different from their time at the onsen, except now Viktor splays his naked body across Yuuri’s lap as they watch TV, and throws an apron over his naked ass before nearly burning down the kitchen.

Yuuri is quite confident that they’ve never spent this long appraising one person’s naked body, not even their own. Yuuri can’t complain much, Viktor is very attractive after all.

Their arrangement isn’t without its flaws.

Yuuri returns from the movie theater with Yurio in tow, happy to play the role of guardian for a night. “Do you think they’d ever make a movie about us?” Yurio asks around the Milk Duds in his mouth.

“What about us is movie worthy?” Yuuri asks, turning their key in the door.

Yurio shrugs, popping in another candy. “I’m pretty fucking awesome.”

Yuuri doesn’t dignify that with a response, swinging the door open. “Honey—” Yurio drops his candy on the ground.

Yuuri immediately slams the door closed, not before the both of them get an eyeful of Viktor’s naked ass in the kitchen. Yuuri’s face goes candy apple red while Yurio splutters next to them

“ _What the fuck_ , pervert?” Yurio screams.

“Yurio, please, the neighbors.”

“I don’t want to know about your weird sex shit!” Yurio continues. “I’m _a child_!”

Yuuri wonders what they did to deserve this. “We don’t even—” Yuuri sighs. They almost wish it _was_ a weird sex thing, because at least then it might make some god damned sense.

“Wait here.”

Yuuri slips into the apartment, where Viktor stands sheepishly in the living room, _still naked_. “I forgot you were going out with Yurio.”

Deep breaths. “We need to talk,” Yuuri grits out. “And for the love of god, put some clothes on.”

They make a calendar, an honest to god color coded _calendar_ , and stick it on the fridge, where it gleams at Yuuri every morning and reminds them that _this is their life now_. Blue days mean Viktor has to keep his clothes on like a normal human being, and red days mean Viktor is assumed naked unless stated otherwise. There is a standing rule that Yuuri can ask Viktor to put some clothes on if they get uncomfortable, and similarly Viktor can ask for permission to disrobe on blue days.

Yurio still doesn’t look at Viktor for three days. “I don’t understand, Yura,” Viktor whines, trailing after the teen like a puppy. “You’ve seen me naked before.”

The rest of their team looks alarmed. “Get away from me, geezeer!” Yurio barks, skating away faster.

Yuuri buries their face in their hands.

The calendar helps. Yuuri is no longer surprised to find Viktor lounging naked on the couch. Yuuri is given ample forewarning and time to prepare before going to cuddle their nude fiancé. Yuuri’s fingers trace a vertical scar on Viktor’s left knee where it’s splayed across Yuuri’s lap. Viktor takes notice of the repetitive motion and glances up from his phone.

“Oh, that’s from an ACL reconstruction when I was twenty,” he supplies.

Yuuri hums, fingers still dancing over the faded scar. “I know,” they say. “I cried for a week.” That earns a laugh from Viktor. “It didn’t occur to me you’d have a scar from it,” they confess.

“You’ve seen me naked lots of times, darling, you never noticed before now?” Viktor laughs.

Yuuri shrugs. “I never looked.”

“I have lots of scars!” Viktor says, seemingly excited by the prospect of sharing them with Yuuri.

Viktor excitedly smooths his hands over his hip bone, where a puckered line of skin rests. “Here’s where Mila nicked me with her skate while practicing her standing spin when she was thirteen.”

“That must have been fun,” Yuuri chuckles, imagining the chewing out the poor girl must have gotten from Yakov for slicing into his best skater.

Viktor takes one of Yuuri’s hands and flips over onto his stomach. He guides Yuuri’s hand to the back of his thigh, right where it begins to fill out into the swell of his ass. “You know you could just ask if you want a butt massage.”

Yuuri’s fingers find a rough patch of skin. “This is where I had a cyst when I was fifteen.”

Yuuri snorts. “Oh my god, I don’t want to see your ass cyst.”

“Yuuri, don’t be mean!” Viktor whines, rolling back over.

Yuuri eyes the flat planes of Viktor’s stomach and thighs, unmarred by the silvery web of stretch marks on Yuuri’s own. Viktor sees the mix of envy and shame in Yuuri’s eyes. He knows Yuuri and the way their thoughts string together well enough that he knows where Yuuri’s thoughts have gone.

An idea sparks in Viktor’s mind. “You should try it, Yuuri!”

Yuuri knows that look and has come to dread it. “Try what.”

“Being naked,” Viktor says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I have tried it. In the shower,” Yuuri deadpans.

“Yuuri!” Viktor whines. “I’m serious!”

That’s what Yuuri was afraid of.

“You should try it at least once! Then you’ll understand!”

“Baby,” Yuuri cuts in, smoothing their hand over the knee still in their lap. “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I hope to _never_ understand you.”

Viktor pouts, and Yuuri kisses it from his lips. Yuuri thought that was the end of it.

**Chris:** yuuri~~~  
  
**Chris:** how’s russia my darling?  


Yuuri squints at the message from Chris. They had an amicable relationship, sure, but they weren’t in the habit of making small talk. (Truth be told, Yuuri didn’t much make small talk with _anyone_ ).

**Yuuri:** Different. I’m still settling in.  
  
**Chris:** of course of course  
  
**Chris:** how’s vitya?  


Yuuri tilts their head. Why wouldn’t Chris just ask Viktor himself?

**Yuuri:** Good?  
  
**Chris:** oh honey, i mean HOWS vitya  
  
**Yuuri:** repeating yourself in caps doesn’t make it clearer  
  
**Chris:** in bed  


Yuuri doesn’t miss the innuendo, but glances to Viktor at their side anyway. Viktor’s face is smooshed against the pillow, drool pooling at the corner of his mouth. Yuuri sends a picture.

**Chris:** cute!!!  
  
**Chris:** so vitya tells me you wear clothes in the privacy of your own home  


A thick sense of dread washes over Yuuri.

**Yuuri:** Yes. Like most people.  
  
**Chris:** oh honey you’re doing the world a disservice  
  
**Yuuri:** The world does not want to see me naked.  
  
**Chris:** HONEY  


Chris sends Yuuri a link to a blog entirely dedicated to rating different pictures of their ass. Yuuri is floored because:

1) Katsuki Yuuri Ass Appreciation is a blog that _exists._  
2) This is an actual conversation they are having with Christophe Giacometti.

**Yuuri:** what  
  
**Chris:** your derrière was blessed by the gods  
  
**Yuuri:** did you make this  
  
**Chris:** HA  
  
**Chris:** I wish  
  
**Chris:** but no  
  
**Chris:** anyway you’ve been proven wrong  
  
**Chris:** many people want to see you naked  
  
**Chris:** including me  


Yuuri doesn’t know what to say to that. “Babe.” They prod Viktor between the ribs.

Viktor blinks at them blearily. “What?”

“Is Chris hitting on me?” They lean over to show Viktor the conversation.

Viktor snorts.

**Yuuri:** im sure u would )))))  


“Wait, you put eyes on your emojis don’t you.”

“I only use emojis with you and Phichit.”

**Yuuri:** *;)))  
  
**Chris:** ;)))  
  
**Yuuri:** tell me more abt my attractive buns  
  
**Chris:** oh yuuri, you dog  
  
**Chris:** you could balance a champagne glass on that behind  
  
**Yuuri:** if memory serves i already did  


“You’re lying,” Yuuri says.

“Oh no, I have it on video!”

Yuuri buries their face in their hands.

**Chris:** yuuri lets run away together  
  
**Chris:** me and your firm behind  


“I really don’t know how I feel about my fiancé and his best man praising my ass.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Viktor is already typing a new message.

“No, keep going.”

**Yuuri:** if only it was not promised to my stunningly handsome and talented fiance who looks like an angel from the heavens even when he drools on our pillow  
  
**Yuuri:** then we could be together my love  


“Is this what you do behind my back?”

“I mean, I’m clearly doing it right in front of your eyes.”

**Chris:** there’s a lovely nude beach in leucate  
  
**Chris:** we should all go together!  
  
**Yuuri:** of course  
  
**Yuuri:** i can think of no better view than your vuloptouous butt  


“How do you spell voluptuous?”

“Close enough.” Yuuri frowns. “Where did you even learn that word?”

**Chris:** ;)  
  
**Chris:** now what does yuuri think  
  
**Yuuri:** No.  
  
**Chris:** :((((((((  
  
**Chris:** but it’ll be like a holiday  
  
**Yuuri:** Bye Chris.  


Soon after smothering Viktor and burying his body under Makka’s favorite flowerbeds in the park, Yuuri gets a call from Nicolas, Chris’s husband.

“I am so sorry about him.” Nicolas lets out a long-suffering sigh. “You know how he is.”

“Do I ever,” Yuuri says drily, watching their fiancé (attempt to) smoke salmon completely naked. “How do you survive?”

“Endless patience and a typed list of reasons I fell in love with him.” Yuuri is quickly running out of the former, but they can probably come up with something for the latter.

Yuuri can only imagine what kind of things would make someone fall in love with Christophe. Then again, their fiancé is currently crying because he nearly chopped off a nipple. Later, nipple covered with a bandage and still attached to his body, Viktor broaches the subject again.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try it?” Viktor whines, arm looped around Yuuri’s shoulders as they sit on the couch.

Yuuri pointedly looks at the dots of blood seeping through the Rainbow Dash Band-Aid on Viktor’s chest. “I’m sure,” they deadpan.

Viktor pouts even more. “Not even once?” he whines. “I want you to be comfortable in your body!”

It’s sweet Yuuri supposes. Except Viktor seems to think that clothes are somehow a barrier against true self-confidence and that if Yuuri bares their pasty ass they will suddenly love themselves. Yuuri doesn’t know how to explain that Yuuri’s self-loathing will still be there whether their clothes are or not.

Yuuri pinches the bridge of their nose and takes a deep breath.

_Reason #1: When Viktor smiles an angel gets its wings._

(Yuuri hasn’t gotten around to typing up The List yet, but it’s already doing its job.)

“I can’t be naked in front of Makkachin,” Yuuri tries.

Viktor is currently completely naked while Makkachin sleeps soundly beside him. He raises an eyebrow. “Somehow, I don’t think he cares.”

“The things this poor dog has seen,” Yuuri laments.

“Yuuri, Makkachin is always naked.”

“It’s okay, Makka, I’ll protect you.”

Yuuri eventually gives up.

“If I do it _once_ , will you stop bugging me about it?”

Viktor squeals like a five-year old. “Oh, Yuuri, it’ll be wonderful, you’ll see! And then we can go to a naturist resort in France with Chris and—” 

Yuuri makes some Rules. The first of which is that Viktor needs to keep his clothes on. Somehow, this whole thing is _less weird_ for Yuuri if they’re the only one naked. Viktor is less than thrilled.

“But _Yuuri_ ,” he whines. “I want us to be comfortable together!”

“I’m going to be extremely uncomfortable regardless, but this will make me less so.” What Yuuri doesn’t say is that if Viktor is naked while they are, they’re going to spend the whole time comparing their bodies, and they _know_ for a fact they don’t stack up.

Viktor pouts, but he loves Yuuri so he suffers.

The second Rule is Viktor’s. “You need to try this for _at least_ three hours.”

Three hours is the entire length of a flight to Zurich, where Chris is no doubt waiting impatiently for the news that Yuuri has been converted.

“We can put on a movie and cuddle and you’ll forget that you feel different at all!”

Someone needs to take Viktor aside and explain what it’s like to have a significant other with Anxiety. He’s had a front row seat to all of Yuuri’s breakdowns for the past year, but still doesn’t seem to understand that Yuuri doesn’t function the way he does.

(To be fair, no one functions the way Viktor does, and he doesn’t understand that either.)

The third Rule arises when Viktor returns to the couch with a massive bowl of popcorn to find Yuuri, while naked, has made themselves a blanket burrito. Viktor pouts, tugging at the edges of the blanket.

“Yuuri!” he whines. “There’s no point if you wrap yourself in a blanket the whole time!”

“It’s cold,” Yuuri says petulantly. Viktor just gives them a look of exasperation, because it’s not _that_ cold. Certainly not enough to warrant hiding every inch of skin.

“Then you can sit on the floor.” It’s heated, a fact Yuuri is forever grateful for during the Russian winter. “That’s the reason I had it installed, you know. To heat my buns.”

No, Yuuri _doesn’t_ know because that’s fucking ridiculous in the way only Viktor Nikiforov can be. They look dubiously between the floor and their fiancé, trying to determine if Viktor is joking.

(He’s not. (He never is.))

“I’m not putting my butt on your dirty floor.”

“My floor isn’t dirty!” Viktor says defensively. “It’s so clean you could eat off it!”

Yuuri watches in slow motion as Viktor drops to his knees and lowers his face to the floor, mouth open. “Viktor, I swear to god if you lick that floor I’m going to wash your mouth out with soap.” Viktor slowly puts his tongue back in his mouth as Yuuri realizes they are actually marrying a five-year-old.

“Fine. But at least let me in the blanket, too,” Viktor whines.

It takes three minutes for Yuuri to unwind the blanket from around themselves enough for Viktor to slip in, which he does happily. Viktor snuggles happily into Yuuri, tightening the blanket around them both. For the entire two hours of the movie, Yuuri is distinctly aware of Viktor’s hands on them. Viktor has always been handsy, that’s nothing new. But now, Yuuri feels every pinch and squeeze like an electric shock.

Viktor’s fingers trace over the valleys of Yuuri’s stretch marks on their hips and Yuuri tenses at the touch. They quickly thread their fingers with Viktor’s and subtly move his hand to a safer spot on their waist. In all honesty, there’s really no “safe” spot with all of Yuuri’s skin exposed and open for Viktor to touch. Viktor’s hand keeps wandering back to Yuuri’s hip, and they keep moving it away.

“Yuuri,” Viktor whines, breaking the silence after the TV has been turned off. “What’s wrong?”

Viktor’s fingertips trace Yuuri’s stretch marks again and they shift uncomfortably under his touch. “It’s just weird.”

Viktor’s fingers lighten, but don’t stop tracing the web of scars on Yuuri’s hip. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Yes, no, I don’t know.”

Viktor gently tugs at the blanket, starting to unwrap them both. “Can I see you?” he asks gently.

The lights in the living room are harsh and unflattering, Yuuri can only imagine how awful they’ll look under them. It’s been ages since they’ve looked at their stretch marks and fat in the mirror. They have no idea what their scars look like now, if they’ve somehow gotten worse, and they’re about to be on full display for their fiancé. Their breath instinctively quickens, their anxiety suddenly jumping up about five notches.

(Yuuri’s not entirely sure what they’re afraid of. Viktor loves them unconditionally, he’s not going to leave because Yuuri’s body is ugly. They _know_ that and yet...)

“Baby, breathe,” Viktor says quietly, stopping in his movements. “Do you want to stop this?”

Yuuri does as they’re told, taking a series of deep breaths trying to calm their racing heart. A minute passes, and then another, where the room is silent save for Yuuri’s breathing and the two of them are perfectly still. When their breathing slows, Yuuri shakes their head.

“No, I’m okay,” they insist.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to push yourself for me.” Viktor frets. “I wanted to push you to face your insecurities but I don’t want to force you into a panic attack—”

Yuuri smiles. It’s incredibly sweet. Even when Viktor is being obnoxious and weird, he’s still doing his best for Yuuri. “I’m fine,” they insist. Yuuri lets the blanket drop a little, easing it open so their stomach and hips are on display.

Viktor’s hands immediately go back to Yuuri’s belly, which is feathered with scars and stocky even in “perfect” shape. (Viktor will insist that Yuuri’s shape is _always_ perfect, regardless of their weight or how much fat fills their skin.) Even at their thinnest, Yuuri will always be thicker than Viktor and Yurio. Barring self-destruction (and they would be lying if they said it never crossed their mind), Yuuri could never hope to be waif-like and long-limbed the way Viktor is. It’s how their body is built, how it’s healthiest, and they’re trying to love it.

“You’re beautiful,” Viktor says breathlessly, staring at the scars littering Yuuri’s skin.

Yuuri looks away. They know better than to disagree after a year, knowing that any objection from them will just make Viktor praise their beauty even harder, like if he says it enough times with enough fervor, Yuuri will start to believe it. (It’s working, slowly, even if they don’t realize it yet.)

“ _You’re_ embarrassing,” Yuuri says instead, because it’s true.

Yuuri skin still twitches under Viktor’s touch, even as their body starts to relax. It doesn’t escape Viktor’s notice. “You weren’t shy when I showed you _my_ scars,” he points out.

Viktor’s fingers circle a mole on the top of Yuuri’s thigh. “That’s different,” they mutter.

“How?”

“It just is,” Yuuri insists childishly. They’re having trouble forming words when Viktor’s fingertips on the inside of their thigh is all they can think about. Viktor stays silent, giving Yuuri time as his fingers walk down to smooth over Yuuri’s knee.

“Your scars were all physical things that happened to you,” Yuuri begins. “They all had funny stories to go with them.”

Yuuri’s mind flashes to the weeks after their disastrous showing at Japanese Nationals. Celestino carted them to an endless parade of doctors and specialists who poked and prodded at them endlessly, trying to determine what was wrong with them. Because surely there _must_ be something wrong with them for them to fail that badly. But every doctor said the same thing, that physically Yuuri was fine except for some rapid weight gain (that an oncologist assured them was _not_ a tumor). Yuuri was pulled aside and given a recommendation for a psychologist no less than three times.

“I don’t have any funny stories,” Yuuri murmurs into their shoulder. “Just me being weak.”

Viktor makes a noise like a wounded animal. “You’re not weak,” he says. “These aren’t weakness.” His fingers dance over the scars on Yuuri’s belly, hips, and thighs. “They’re a part of you, and they’re beautiful because _you’re_ beautiful.”

Yuuri looks away, blushing down to their chest. “That’s easy for you to say.” Viktor, with his perfect body, whose never struggled with his weight a day in his life or had the media inspecting his every meal and picture to determine if he was “letting go.”

Viktor quiets suddenly, a rare occurrence. “Yes, I suppose it is,” he sighs. A moment passes, where Viktor just cradles Yuuri in his arms and stares at the sea of scars on Yuuri’s skin. “But it’s true. You’re not weak; you’re the strongest person I know.” One of Viktor’s hands leaves Yuuri’s waist to smooth back their hair. “You’d be strong even if you never lost that weight, or if you gain it back; if the years go on and you gain even more scars, I’ll kiss them and tell you how beautiful you are.”

Viktor apologized for his comments about Yuuri’s weight a long time ago, he’d been trying to motivate Yuuri and had repeated what he’d heard from coaches and fellow athletes, not understanding that it was wrong. Yuuri had forgiven him a hundred times over, because Viktor had more than made up for it. Yuuri still shudders under the praise and wishes they had a shirt to hide their face in.

They settle for ducking into Viktor’s chest. “You’ll still love me?”

“Oh Yuuri.” Viktor moves their hand from Yuuri’s hair back to their stomach, splaying their fingers out on Yuuri’s skin. “Nothing in this world could make me stop loving you.” Viktor stares at the silver web of scars etched into Yuuri’s skin like it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. “I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

Yuuri’s eyes gleam, a river threatening to overflow. “I’m working on it,” Yuuri says. It’s the best they can offer, but Viktor smiles like they hung the moon anyway. Viktor’s fingers move from the swell of Yuuri’s belly to the curve of their hip, then to the soft inside of their thigh. Yuuri snorts. “That tickles!”

Viktor’s eyes gleam, and Yuuri immediately regrets revealing their weakness. It takes less than a second for Viktor to duck his head and blow a wet raspberry on the skin of Yuuri’s stomach, and in that time, Yuuri sees their life flash before their eyes.

Yuuri giggles, which only spurs Viktor on. “Oh my god, stop!” Yuuri whines, covering their face with their hands because they can’t even look at their fiancé. Viktor’s only response is to blow an even wetter raspberry.

Viktor’s mouth is impossibly noisy, and Yuuri is fairly certain he’s trying to sound as ridiculous as possible. Yuuri is crying from laughter when Viktor gets interrupted by Yuuri’s alarm going off. Yuuri jumps up, nearly dumping Viktor on the floor.

“What’s that?” Viktor pouts, watching Yuuri practically sprint to the bedroom.

“Three hours.” Yuuri’s voice is muffled by the shirt they’re in the middle of putting on.

Viktor gasps in horror. “But we were having a moment!” he whines. “I thought I was going to convince you!”

Yuuri walks out of the bedroom, having put on clothes faster than they ever have in their life. “You’re very sweet.” They sit on the couch and pull a sulking Viktor back into their arms. “And I appreciate what you were trying to do. I’m still going to wear clothes.”

Viktor pouts into the top of Yuuri’s head, wrapping their arms around them reluctantly. “Did I at least make you feel better?”

Yuuri nuzzles into Viktor’s neck, happy to be wearing clothes again. “You did.”

“Then I suppose it’s not a total loss,” Viktor sighs. “I’ll just have to convince you again somehow.”

Yuuri rolls their eyes. “I’m still not going to that nudist resort in France.”

“But _Yuuri_...”

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on [tumblr](https://aceyuurikatsuki.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
